


Histories Explained

by docspire



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Loss of Parent(s), Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docspire/pseuds/docspire
Summary: Returned from her trial at Bardam's Mettle, Cadette has questions of her past, being left with both a new trial laid before her, and more on her mind than she quite expected.
Kudos: 2





	Histories Explained

Much had been left to thought for Cadette, known to those around her as Khadagan, her birth name as a member of the Dotharl, a revelation that unto itself had already been somewhat of a shock to the woman after living upon the island of Vylbrand for most of her life. She’d already spent a considerable amount of time with the tribe of her birth, living among them and learning more of her heritage and their way of life, which it was no exaggeration to say was a rather striking contrast to the one she’d known in the west; life on the Steppe meant a daily fight for one’s very survival, everyone having to pull their own weight for the good of their tribe, the alternative not being an option.

Another sun passed after her triumphant conquest of the trial at Bardam’s Mettle, seeing the Western-raised mage sitting about the cookfire alongside other tribesfolk, among them the tribe’s Khan, Sadu. As the day’s light waned, heralding the night’s fall across the Steppe, conversation was abundant whilst a simple, yet nourishing meal of freshly prepared stew was shared. Though there was much lauded upon Cadette for having become a warrior of the Steppe after having spent most of her life raised away from the tribe and their way of life, so too came the curiosity that was only natural from both sides of a relation only recently restored.

“So, Khadagan, it is well that you’ve returned to us after your trial.” The khatun smirked. “I’d have thought one left soft by so long in the West to turn tail and run in fear of getting so much as a scrape or bruise. Looking at you, it would appear that I might be mistaken.”

“I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, Khatun.” Cadette laughed, paying little mind to the bruises and scrapes that littered her body. “As grand as the trial was, I’m no stranger to taking the odd hit if I must.”

Though she was confident in her statement, an almost raucous laughter roiled among the other tribesfolk around the fire; though they seemed impressed by the fact that this one born among them had not only returned from the West, but had emerged from the trial laid before her, they seemed skeptical of the boast. Cadette had, at least to her own mind always been a fighter, but it became readily apparent that they did not believe it like to translate to or even come close to matching the challenges they faced in their everyday life. With a sharp glare, most desisted, allowing her to address people once more.

“Perhaps you could answer a question for me, Khatun.” Cadette tented her fingers, elbows resting upon her knees. “Why is it that you and yours suppose my upbringing left me soft? Is it that I’ve not lived among the tribe as the Khadagan before me had?”

“Outsiders are often oblivious to our way of life, Khadagan.” Sadu explained. “Those who come will either bear foolish ill will, or find themselves unprepared to face the reality of the Steppe. Ours is a harsh land, and there is no forgiveness for the ill-prepared.”

“Never minding that we’ve yet to face you in combat.” Another of the tribesfolk chimed in. “We live to do battle, and though you’ve proven yourself as a warrior of the Steppe, you have not yet shown this same skill among us.”

She knew full well that the tribe lived for combat and trained near on daily, of course, but she’d only properly shown off her skill in helping to take down a lone Manzasiri that had wandered a touch too close to the encampment, an act that was apparently insufficient to sate their desire to see her skill in combat. Cracking her knuckles in rather extravagant fashion, Cadette sneered, her confidence seeming to find her with great zeal when she looked at the man among them that had made such a bold declaration.

“It sounds as though you’re challenging me, friend.” Cadette’s lips curled into an almost sinister grin. “If I must, I’ll gladly face off with any who wish to do battle.”

“You would do battle with your peers, Khadagan?” Sadu’s expression was almost wicked in its intensity. “I’ll not see this happen without facing you myself. What a battle it shall be!”

Though not the response Cadette had expected, she knew well that combat, or at the very least training, would have come in time with what she had learned in her time among the people of her tribe. What was not expected was the appearance that she was going to be expected to face multiple of her fellow Dotharl in what she expected would be a test unto itself of her skill in thaumaturgy against those who themselves were of considerable ability.

“I propose we do so on the morrow, that we might all rest and face off in peak shape.” Cadette declared, seeming to garner agreement. “That in mind, while we’re around this fire, perhaps you could tell me a bit more of my parents, Khatun? You’d know them far better than I, surely.”

“Ah yes, Toragana and Budjek. Victim to the wildlife of the Steppe.” Sadu bows her head a fleeting second. “A finer pair of traders we’d not seen, and warriors of great ability in their own right. Proud were they with the coming of your birth, having seen one so skilled with magic returned to us.”

Though the memories were but vague whispers in the back of her mind, when Cadette thought on what she was told, she could almost remember a time when she was but a small child, the caravan charged by a pack of dangerous, almost bloodthirsty Gedan. She herself was spared, the caravan itself not having been struck by the horde, though her parents had not been so fortunate, brief flashes of them checking for her in panic, of shouting, and eventually… of nothing. She’d been left alone, a babe of no more than two summers, laying inside the now-abandoned caravan, crying out for the comfort of those who could respond no longer. This memory brought a more somber expression to her countenance, though she fought back the desire to weep, the mere idea of such a loss causing a hurt unto itself.

Looking back up after a moment of silence, though her expression remained muted, hints of sorrow in her eyes betraying the attempt at being properly stoic, Cadette gathered herself under the respectful understanding of those around her; even for a people that did not fear death, there was an unspoken knowledge of the importance of one’s own flesh and blood, and the pain that ensued when such a bond was severed by death. Glancing about, it appeared that there was anticipation of more questions, the people of the tribe knowing all too well about the desire of this returned one of their own to learn of her past, of their shared history, that she might rebuild a part of her heritage that had been left unknown and languishing for far too long.

“My parents, were they ever returned to us?” Cadette asks with a near stone-faced gaze. “Do they live among us now? Are they at all as they once were?”

“Indeed, they have returned to us, both of them.” Sadu nods sagely. “Fine young warriors, they are. They show a great deal of promise, not unlike they did before.”

The declaration, a confirmation of something that the young woman suspected might be the case drew pause; she wasn’t surprised as such, but the fact that they believed her mother and father reborn was a stunning revelation, one that while emotional for Cadette was similarly curious. Perhaps, she thought, she might be able to meet them one day while she was still here, living among the tribe of her birth, that she could have whatever measure of closure might come with knowing of her parents’ new lives.

“Come, Khadagan, you would do well to rest.” A call from the Khatun brought Cadette back to the present. “If you’re to face us on the morrow, you will need all of your strength. We’ll be the judge of whether life in the West has truly left you any less a warrior.”

Rising wordlessly, Cadette tends to ensuring the fire is safely out before following suit with other of the tribeswomen to the yurt where she was resting for the night. This night’s sleep, though she had been left with much to contemplate, would be of great importance to her, both in pride and the connection to her past.

With the rise of the new sun, she was to face her fellow Dotharl in combat, yet another, more personal test of her mettle.


End file.
